Vizem
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Chapter 25 - Shiho
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 14:52:05 +0000 UTC“P-proof?” Shiho repeated, voice tight and rising from somewhere between panic and secret thrill. Her breath caught, high in her chest. She blinked, wide-eyed and cutely overwhelmed.
“Mhm.” I moved my thumb to the middle of her lower lip. “Show me.”
She blinked once. Then twice.
"...Show you?" Her voice cracked, trembling like a snapped guitar string. She inhaled sharply like she was about to backpedal—or run. But my gaze kept her still.
She squirmed in my hold, not to escape, but because she had nowhere left to hide.
So she did something utterly her.
She… talked.
"...W-well," Shiho stammered, voice barely above a whisper, eyes refusing to meet mine as her cheeks turned scarlet. "You… you want proof? S-so maybe—I mean, totally theoretically—possibly I’ve… thought about this. About… y-you. When I was alone. At night.”
Her voice cracked over the last word. Her hands clenched at her sides like she could squeeze the shame right out of her fingers. She was spiraling, caught between arousal and humiliation—and still barreling forward.
“I was stupid, okay? You didn’t come back, and I thought it was because I—because I’m not the kind of girl a guy like you stays for.” Her throat bobbed with the effort not to cry, but she forged on, blushing so hard her ears were flaming. “I mean, I’m not bold, or sexy, or even coherent half the time, but you kissed me like I was all those things, and you left, and I thought—kami, Shiho, of course he left. Why would he stay for someone who falls apart from just being looked at?”
I didn’t interrupt. Even if I so wanted to kiss her till her lips bruised.
“I would... I’d imagine your voice. The way you’d say my name….. like…... I’d pretend your hands were on my face again when I… when I t-touched myself." She visibly flinched, like she'd slapped herself with her own words. "I’d always apologize in my head afterward… sometimes even out loud. For not being good enough to keep. For being needy. For being stupid enough to think… just doing all those things could mean something.”
She glanced up through her lashes, then—like she expected me to recoil, or smirk, or maybe laugh the same way I had before.
I didn’t.
I didn’t say anything at all for a heartbeat too long.
Because the confession had been more than I asked for—and less than I wanted.
I leaned in slowly, possessiveness pooling behind my next smile.
“Is that your proof?” I asked. “Words that drip shame but no courage? Fantasies you never let me hear, apologies whispered in my absence from a mouth that should’ve been begging when it was full of me?”
I knew it was harsh. I wanted to hug her, pet her, hold her tight. Shiho was already breaking open, and I had just poured salt into the wound. But I had to.
Words like that slice straight through the lies she tells herself. That she wasn’t wanted. That she was replaceable. That I disappeared because she wasn’t enough.
So yeah, I was an asshole. On purpose this time.
Shiho didn’t need empty comfort—she needed raw truth. Needs to see the parts of herself she thinks are unlovable be dragged into the light... and then claimed. Fiercely. Shamelessly.
She couldn’t run if I pushed her into the mirror and made her look at who she really was. What she really needs.
She gasped, wide-eyed, trembling, every inch of her torn between fear and want.
I leaned closer, my breath ghosting against her ear.
“I’m a greedy man, Shiho. If you’re going to bare your filthy little thoughts to me, I don’t want the summary —”
My hand slid just beneath her jaw, coaxing her to look into my eyes. No escape.
“—I want the director’s cut. Voice shaking. Eyes wet. I want the parts that made you feel disgusting after… the parts you don’t even like admitting you liked.”
Her chest rose and fell in shallow gulps, lips trembling like she was on the verge of drowning in the weight of her longing.
“You said you imagined how I’d say your name,” I murmured against her lips. “Now say it back to me. That way. Right now.”
She swallowed as if the words were thorns. “I used to whisper it... like I'd pretend you were behind me, not gentle—not even nice. Just this… weight. And I’d say — Eishin, please — like I wanted to be… like I wanted….”
Her voice thinned out into air and shame.
I tilted my head, letting just enough silence stretch to bite. “I don’t want your past.” I said. “I didn’t ask about what you used to do. What you wished happened while you hid under sheets.”
Her mouth hung slightly open, breath caught, as if she hadn’t heard me right.
“I asked you,” I said, leaning just a little closer, “to prove your sincerity.”
My fingers brushed the hem of her long skirt.
“I want to see,” I said.
Her brows knit. “W-what?”
“You said they were white.” A tilt of my head. “Show me.”
She blinked in confusion, cutely before her panic took over —a tightening of her whole frame. “B-but I—I can’t, we’re... anyone could see—”
That was fear. But fear wasn’t refusal. Fear was pliable. It just needed something stronger to lean into.
“You dragged me out of your head and back into your world with that filthy little confession.” I stepped back, letting her feel the distance. “But you want me to believe that was real? Then be a good girl, and show me.”
Her lips trembled, eyes darting to the sides like alley cats. Shadows of people moved at the end of the corridor past the stacks — too far to see. Close enough to maybe.
“...I...” she whimpered, frozen. “It feels wrong...”
“I know,” I said.
She blinked up at me, lips slightly parted.
Her hands were fidgeting with the seams of her skirt—the long, modest thing she always wore like armor. Layers of soft fabric, unassuming and loose. Camouflage for someone who clearly didn’t know what to do with the shape of her own body.
“I-It’s not—” she started, voice small. Shiho swallowed. “I mean, I d-don’t…. people…. but if they… I—it’s not that I don’t want to, just that it’s kinda…”
I didn’t say anything. Just met her fumbling excuses with a patient smile.
Her eyes darted left, right, floor—anywhere but me. Her fingers balled into the long cotton hem. Started pulling—
Then stopped.
Started again.
She lifted an inch.
Froze.
Her breath hiccupped in her chest like a skipped note on a record. Every trembling movement broadcasted her shame. Her shoulders hitched as if the shame alone weighed a thousand pounds. But she couldn’t stop. Her resistance wasn’t in control anymore.
The hem rose, inch by painful inch. Her knees locked awkwardly. Her legs—pale, trembling—emerged first, taut with tension. Her thighs were pressed together like she could somehow will them invisible, like squeezing them shut would hide the tremble in her balance or the flush in her fair skin.
She stopped again. The fabric bunched mid-thigh in her hands.
She didn’t look up.
I waited.
“...Is this enough?” she whispered.
I stepped forward. “Where’s the white?”
Her eyes squeezed shut.
She let out a small sound. Half-breath, half-defeat.
And then, with turtle-paced hands and parted lips smothering a whimper, she lifted further.
There they were.
Simple. White. Cotton.
Nothing sultry, nothing designed for seduction—but somehow, exactly because of that, utterly devastating. Innocent and soaking in disgrace just from being seen.
And in that moment, with her skirt drawn up like she was flaying herself before me…..
I let the words come barely above a breath.
“Good girl.”
She shuddered when she heard it. Like the words struck something curled up deep inside her—a part that had always wanted someone to see her filth, and nod like it was the most precious thing in the world.
There’s something ridiculous—and kind of beautiful—about the way she stood there, clutching her skirt high enough to make her knees wobble.
She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me. Her eyes were fixed somewhere on the floor, jaw tight, breath hitching every few seconds like she was holding something in that might explode if I said one wrong word.
I didn’t say anything.
I just looked.
And she felt it.
Like her skin knew where my gaze was, exactly where it lingered, heating her thighs like the sun through a magnifying glass.
“I don’t—u-um—this was just because you asked, not like—” Shiho’s voice hiccupped, snapping into a breathless whisper, “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Did you turn into a tsundere, now?
I said nothing.
She twitched.
“I-If you keep looking like that…” she mumbled, half buried behind a caught breath. “It’ll… make it weirder.”
I tilted my head.
“Only weird if you’re thinking weird things.”
That got her to glance at me, eyes huge and glassy, immediately jerking away like she had made a terrible mistake. “I-I’m not. I’m not thinking anything, I swear.”
But her voice cracked.
And I grinned and reached down.
She flinched when I touched her—not a jerk, not a pull away, but a full-body recoil. Her hands were still clutching her skirt, frozen mid-lift. I could see the pulse in her throat jumping.
“W-Wait... Eishin, I—I didn’t mean—”
Her modesty was paper-thin when heat suffused her entire body like that. That desperate contradiction in her, not knowing whether she wanted me to pull away or devour her.
And I loved ambiguity like that.
I slipped my fingers under the waistband of her panties, the cotton parting like it had always been waiting for me.
She sucked in air—a sharp little twitch of panic, maybe shame.
“O-oh—that’s…” Her voice cracked into a whispered squeal. “It’s not, you’re just—d-doing things here, without even—!”
“You’re soaked,” I murmured.
Two fingers lightly stroked through the lukewarm slick between her folds, not hurried, just purposeful. Intent enough to make her knees shake.
“That’s not…! That doesn’t mean anything!” she rushed out, too fast to sound convincing. “I—I was just… th-that’s not—that’s not what it looks like! It’s just—just— and—and the breeze earlier—”
She was so earnest in her lies. I was almost offended; the breeze was taking away my due credit.
I smiled lazily, watching her brain short-circuit between humiliation and undeniable arousal. “Not proper, is it?”
“…. y-you’re enjoying this too much.”
Damn right I was. I pushed a digit inside without warning.
Her mouth clicked shut. Her entire body jerked, a tiny, broken noise escaping her throat before she bit down on her lip.
And fuck…
She was tight.
Slick, yes—but the way she gripped, the way her body instinctively tried to push me out even as the heat around my finger throbbed like it wanted to pull me deeper—it was fuckin’ exquisite. Like her body wanted to pretend it was resisting, even though it was clearly ready, almost too ready.
She clenched reflexively, fluttering around the slow curl of my digit like her cunt didn't know whether it was terrified or starving.
I stayed still for a second. Just to let her squirm.
She made a wounded sound in the back of her throat—like she'd swallowed a whine—but she didn’t move away. Not even a twitch.
“Mm. Tight,” I muttered absently. She wasn’t this tight last time.
She shivered.
I started moving my finger.
The rhythm I gave her was slow at first. Testing. Stirring. Curling my finger inside her, just a little, learning the exact spot that made her belly twitch and her knees falter.
Deliberately lazy—just enough to make the friction matter. Just enough to feel every tremble, every stutter of resistance. Her walls fluttered around me like she was trying not to enjoy it... but her body gave her away.
Every time I curved into her just right, her knees wobbled.
Every time I dragged out and pushed back in, she took in a sharp little breath.
Her legs began to part.
Just slightly.
She probably didn’t even realize it at first. Her thighs relaxing little by little, like that instinct was drawing her open despite the shame nipping at her core.
I leaned in, voice hushed across the shell of her ear.
“What do good girls do, Shiho?”
She inhaled raggedly through her nose, trembling.
“I… I-I—hnn—t-they don’t m-move…”
I rewarded her with a small circular motion inside her soaked walls.
She gasped again. Her legs spread wider.
“They obey,” I whispered. “They open.”
Her eyes fluttered. Her lip quivered.
“They stay still, and they let me feel everything.”
My second finger brushed her entrance—and paused.
She tensed, whining low in her throat, caught between craving pressure and fearing what giving in meant.
I smiled again, fingers not moving. Not yet.
“You’ve been trained for this,” I murmured. “So be a good girl now, Shiho. Say it.”
Her silence stretched, her whole face flushed red. I could almost see the thoughts tangling themselves into knots inside her mind.
But her legs didn’t close.
Didn’t even pretend to anymore.
They stayed open.
And her pussy was fluttering—throbbing around the lone digit already sunk inside her, tight, wet, and begging without words.
“Say it…” I coaxed, voice deep and low as the finger inside her made the tiniest movement, just enough to torment.
Her head dropped forward, hair falling into her face as she mumbled the words like a prayer.
“… I’m a… I’m your good girl…”
The tension bled from her shoulders like release.
Fuck…..
I didn’t mean for it to go this far.
Truly, I didn’t. I’d only wanted to fluster her a little. Make her squirm. Give her a little taste—just enough to bend her focus back toward my project. But somewhere between her tremble and that helpless confession……
But can I be blamed?
When she opened like this for me—wet, obedient, trembling with every muscle but her legs spread just as I taught her—when her voice shakes trying to be strong, and fails, fails so beautifully…
How could a man pretend he was made of steel? I wanted patience. I wanted to tease. But what I got was a good girl on display. And standing here with my fingers inside her, her cunt aching around them like a desperate mouth begging to be filled—no one would expect restraint. Not from a man.
Not from me.
Ahh…. I’m so fucking weak.
— — — — — — —
Author Note: Big thanks to everyone who dropped feedback on the introspection stuff. You’ve helped me a lot.
Going forward, I’ll be trimming down the deep-dive thoughts during the spicier parts to keep the pacing tight. I’ll still keep the introspection where it fits best — before, after, or where it hits hardest emotionally.
Also thinking about experimenting with POV shifts. Not 100% sold on it yet since I like each POV to feel structured (like full chapters or at least half), but I’m open to trying if it adds flavor.
As always, thanks for reading — and if you’ve got more thoughts or ideas on what could be improved, feel free to drop them. It helps a ton.
